


Something Not For Everyone

by LavernaG



Category: Something for Everyone - Fandom
Genre: Post-Movie, something for everyone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavernaG/pseuds/LavernaG
Summary: Konrad might think that he has something to offer for everyone, but the countess von Ornstein is not just anyone. Post-Movie. One-Shot.
Relationships: Konrad/Herthe von Ornstein
Kudos: 1





	Something Not For Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I thought might occur some time after the movie, since the relationship between Herthe and Konrad wasn't quite resolved.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a comment if you do! :)

It had been a year since he'd married Lotte von Ornstein. She had forced him into it—Konrad supposed now that he had been too ambitious for his own good, and too careless towards the young and nosy Fräulein von Ornstein. Although she was not exactly an unpleasant girl, he was not happy. This was not at all what he had had in mind when he'd sat on the meadow outside of Ornstein and admired the majestic castle up on the hill for the first time. Sure enough, he was to be the count someday soon, for he doubted young Helmuth would ever marry again; however, he hadn't planned on settling down with the cunning, unattractive Lotte.

'Pleasingly plump'—that's what she'd called it. Well, that was one word for it. Not that he minded her appearance that much any more. Even with all her inexperience she was not entirely dissatisfying. But Konrad longed for something—someone—different.

He sneaked off with Helmuth from time to time. The outrageous adultery concerned neither of them besides paint a black mark on both of their consciences. The two of them had found their happiness in their secret long-term affair. But it was still something else that Konrad yearned for sometimes.

He'd have never thought when he first came to work as a footman at the dower house that he could feel attracted to the grand lady of the house. The townspeople spoke of her with a certain eerie admiration—she was said to be a generous and regal lady, but also something of a deluded neurotic. He had been wary of that at the beginning, but had soon learned that tales of her unbalance had been vastly exaggerated.

Countess Herthe von Ornstein was a phenomenon. She was a paragon of generosity, of beauty and of passion. A dying breed amongst the aristocracy. A woman of emotions and of great pride. A uniquely alluring sight at forty-eight.

She hadn't forgiven him for jilting her. He couldn't have told her the real reason for his change of mind, and he supposed it had to have been devastating for the countess to learn he would rather marry her homely daughter than her glamorous, dazzling self. Had she known what else he'd had to do to get where he was now, she would have hated him.

* * *

All sorts of thoughts passed through Konrad's mind as he peeked past the ajar door of his mother-in-law's bedroom. The countess was resting on a lush settee in the middle of the room, the latest edition of Vogue held open between her half-bent knee and left hand, a cigarette held daintily in her right. Konrad was provided with a clear, captivating view of her bare upper back.

It was now or never. Lotte and Helmuth were staying at the dower house with a few friends; Konrad had declined the invitation with the false excuse of feeling under the weather. It had been far too long since he'd last caught Herthe alone.

He watched hungrily as the countess turned a page in the magazine, the little muscles behind her shoulder twitching ever so little. He remembered how each of them had felt under his fingers, under his lips. The shoulder strap of her sleeveless and backless evening gown had slipped off her left shoulder, allowing the front of the dress to fall forward just enough for Konrad to catch a brief enticing glimpse of her bosom.

He stepped through the doorway and over the plush white carpet without making a sound. The countess's chest rose and fell slowly as a puff of smoke came from her mouth and faded away into the air. Konrad walked up to the settee with calm determination in his movements, and spoke slowly, "Good evening, countess."

Herthe turned her head in his direction nonchalantly, her little nose pointing up at him with cheeky irreverence that extended to her eyes. "Konrad," she addressed him sharply. "I hope you are feeling better." It was a question, and it sounded as if the countess wished him to prove her wrong.

Konrad stood straight, towering over the dainty woman and enjoying the view of her reclined body, of her exposed and inadvertently displayed curves. "I was never unwell," he declared plainly.

"Oh?" The countess returned her snooty eyes to her magazine. After drawing on her cigarette leisurely, she drawled, "But I thought..."

Taken by the countess's bitter-sweet snappy tone, Konrad smiled. "I stayed at the castle because I feel we haven't been spending enough time together lately," he said, and sat down on the settee next to Herthe's slender legs.

Her brow furrowed slightly and she shifted her legs farther from him. The magazine cover under her fingers became crumpled as she nervously gripped the pages she turned, and she declared icily, "I see you plenty of times during the day." Aggressively she shrugged her left shoulder to slide the shoulder strap back into place.

"I mean," Konrad added quietly and placed his hand on her knee, "alone."

Herthe shut the Vogue, threw it onto the carpet and fixed the young man with her best pointed stare. "Don't start," she snapped firmly.

Konrad beheld her fierce countenance and the fire in her big dark grey eyes, and was reminded of the extraordinary passion with which the woman had once responded to his approach. He knew how easily a lonely widow like her could be seduced and also how attractive he was to the lady in question.

He slid his hand over her thigh and inched closer to the countess on the settee. "Don't tell me you don't miss this," he spoke in a low sensual voice.

The cigarette in Herthe's hand burned slowly. Her lips became a thin line; she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. Konrad's eyes were drawn from her fluttering lashes to her beautiful ear, to her long neck and her bare chest. He found her petty defiance unbearably attractive.

"I have been pining for you for a long time," he told her as his other hand landed on the countess's waist and snaked around her bare back. Her skin was just as silky as he had remembered it.

Herthe didn't look at him when she said, "I don't wish to be hurt by a man ever again." Her tone was dry and quiet, unexpectedly and uncharacteristically so.

Konrad didn't take her words to heart. He was confident that his interest was secretly met with the same amount of eagerness on the countess's part, and leaned over the petite woman. He took his time tracing his fingers up her body, over the tempting curve of her breast and up her slender neck. He touched her chin gently and turned her head to face him. Herthe's eyes flew open, and unlike any other woman Konrad had ever known, she stared at him as he lowered himself over her and pressed his lips against hers.

For a moment it seemed to Konrad that Herthe was going to respond, but then a sharp pain sliced through his left cheek and he hurled a startled scream against the countess's lips. As Konrad pulled away from her, his hand rushed to his face and felt the fresh burnt spot in his skin. Herthe watched him levelly; her hand moved blindly towards the ashtray on the table next to the settee and disposed of the cigarette.

Konrad felt a heated anger quickly building up inside him and he raised his hand, prepared to strike back. The countess didn't flinch. She met his fiery eyes with a challenging glare, daring him to hit her. Konrad hesitated, his hand in the air. His pride urged him to go ahead and slap the smug little woman across the face, and he wanted to. But somehow it wasn't worth the effort.

He had clearly miscalculated her lonesomeness. Never mind being a killer, he knew he would never force himself on a woman—least of all Herthe von Ornstein. Konrad pushed himself up from the settee swiftly and straightened his jacket. Herthe's snooty eyes followed him across the room and out the door.

There was no mistake about it—countess Herthe von Ornstein was a phenomenon.

_The End_


End file.
